The buzzards have left us.

Or perhaps they’ve been taken away, just as that big yellow taxi
took away Joni Mitchell’s old man.

Five weeks ago, workmen climbed the cell phone tower described in
my post of November 16 (“Childe Buzzard to the Dark Tower Came”)
to install additional gigantic cables and metallic doohickeys. And ever
since they did that, the hundreds of buzzards who used to roost
on the tower every night have refused to return.

I’ve looked for them every morning, almost in vain. I say
“almost” because on one morning several days ago, I spotted a
single lonesome black vulture perched on a lower rung. He was
looking around as if thinking, “Where the hell is everybody?”

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